


Tilting At Windmills

by Quaggy



Series: Things Not Meant To Be [3]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quaggy/pseuds/Quaggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has issues of his own that he needs to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tilting At Windmills

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted May 16, 2007 and I'd like to point out that the series is set in 2009/2010. So, yeah. Future fic, literally. This is a much darker look at the future of the Santos Administration and of Sam's motivations than I normally take. The series title and opening quote are both from the James Taylor song "Long Ago And Far Away."

_March 2010_

_Dreaming the dreams I dreamed, my friend..._

 

You hate goodbye parties on a general principle. But this one in particular is pure torture. You’ve been reduced to sulking by the punch bowl with a fake smile plastered on your face, not wanting to stay, but unable to manufacture a good enough excuse to leave. It’s officially Donna’s last day today. The day she was supposed to start her maternity leave. But you’re told that babies follow their own schedules and Noah Leonard Lyman decided to come three weeks early. Today is his first outing. It’s as if fate is rubbing your own stupidity in your face.    
  
You wonder if you got the worst of both your parents. Your father’s blind self-interest and your mother’s ability to only see her preferred delusion, even when the truth was staring her in the face. But even you had to face the realization that your Dulcinea will forever be beyond your reach. Not that having a baby automatically means happily ever after. You’re evidence of that. Hell, so are the Santos kids. But in this case, the kid’s living proof that your best friend and the girl you’re in love with share a bond that cannot be severed.    
  
Years from now, some romantic sod will write about the great unrequited love story of the Bartlet Administration. It won’t matter if the focus is on Donna or Josh, they will have got it wrong. You were the one pining.    
  
You don’t know when it started. Maybe when you were so distraught over the discovery of your father’s affair and she looked after you. Or maybe back during the first campaign when things were ending with Lisa and Donna was a ray of sunshine in your life. But you really started to notice it during President Bartlet’s re-election campaign. You can admit to yourself now that you had visions of returning to DC in triumph after your successful campaign in California and sweeping Donna off her feet. But you lost. And Donna had gotten herself involved with a guy. And, for once, Josh didn’t seem to be trying to interfere. It was as though the moment had passed.  
  
Not that anything you had planned or wished for mattered. Donna didn’t want a knight in shinning armor who would sweep her off on his white charger. She wanted an obnoxious, stressed-out workaholic with a receding hairline who would sweep her off on an airplane for a week’s vacation. And truthfully, she deserved nothing less.  
  
The irony of the unwitting role you had in Josh's courtship of Donna does not escape you. You had wondered why Josh decided that your engagement would be worth mentioning to the President-Elect of the United States. It took you a while to realize that it was because Josh Lyman, confirmed bachelor, was trying to work out how to be married to Donna and still be the guy the guy counts on. And without realizing what you were doing, you handed him the way to do just that. Josh is smarter than most. (Smarter than you.) He would have figured it out on his own. But you made it easier and that’s just something you’re going to have to live with.  
  
You risk a glance over at Donna. Amy has presented her with a large lumpy package with a misshapen balloon creation on top. (You honestly don’t understand that woman.)  Donna has accepted it with her usual grace.  
  
“She’s glowing.”  
  
You jump and turn to face a smirking Josh Lyman with a bundle of blankets cradled in his arms. And then you take a closer look. Oh. Correction. You’re faced with two smirking Lymans, not one. Can babies smirk? Because Noah is clearly smirking.  
  
“Sam?”  
  
“Right. Sorry. You were saying?”  
  
“Donna. She looks good, doesn’t she?”    
  
“Yes.” He just caught you looking at his wife. It’s not like you can pretend you hadn’t noticed.  
  
“I mean, more than the new mother thing. You can tell she’s happy again. She was worried about taking this job, you know.”   
  
As a matter of fact, you do know. Donna had come to you a few months ago and confided that C.J.’s charity was starting a global AIDS initiative, and that C.J. wanted her to craft the legislative agenda. Not realizing that it was a DC job, you, of course, thought that this would mean that Donna would be moving out to California. . . and that, in turn, meant that Josh and Donna were having problems again. You were certain that this meant there was a West Coast romance in your near future. Not wanting to seem too eager, you had mumbled some platitudes about the job being a great opportunity, that even Josh would have to see that and wouldn’t it be better if she talked it over with him? She’d responded with a sigh and told you not to worry about it.  
  
But you won’t tell Josh that. Instead you make some noncommittal noise, signaling him to continue.  
  
“The whole thing with Mrs. Santos would be enough to make anyone want to keep a little professional distance. And here’s C.J. offering her a job.”  
  
“What’s wrong with that?!” you ask, completely lost.  
  
“Nothing. But C.J. as her boss. . . That’s like the total opposite of professional distance!”   
  
“I. . . never thought of it like that.”  
  
“I wasn’t much of a help. My philosophy was that anything that got her out of her current situation was a good thing. Fortunately, she talked to Toby and he helped to set her straight.”  
  
“Toby?”  
  
“Yeah. Nobody knows C.J. better. After the whole debacle with Mrs. Santos, Donna was worried about taking a job with someone who knew so much about her personal life. I mean, C.J. and Donna. . .  You wouldn’t think of them as best friends, but they have each other's back without question and can speak honestly with each other without worrying that the other will be offended. They’ve been like that since the first Bartlet campaign. It’s like they’re war buddies, or something. I think Donna just needed to be reminded that C.J. would never treat her with anything less than respect.”  
  
“Well. . . Ummm. . . .” God. What a jackass Donna must have thought you were. What a blind, selfish jackass. She was looking for practical reassurances and you could only see your personal fantasy.   
  
“Hey! You want to hold him?” Josh offers suddenly, preparing to pass the squirming bundle over to you.   
  
“No, no. It’s perfectly alright,” you exclaim, praying, as you back away, that your voice doesn’t sound as panicked as you feel.   
  
“Haven’t you ever held a baby before?” Josh asks in the same tone he would use on someone he suspected of never having voted.  
  
“I was the youngest,” you defend.  
  
“So was I! You mean to tell me you’ve never been around babies before?”  
  
“Of course I have! It’s just. . . Nobody ever expected me to. . . touch them. They probably figured it was safer that way.”  
  
“Well, we can’t have that! Otherwise, you’re liable to drop your own first-born on his head the moment they hand him to you!” he laughs. And then he shows you how to hold his son.  
  
Josh doesn’t know that this is the closest you’ll ever come to holding a child of your own. Your wife isn’t maternal and thinks having a child, feeling as she does, would be abuse, pure and simple. She was very open about it when you were first dating so that you could get out if you had a more traditional vision of what it meant to be a family. You know she won’t change her mind. But it’s just like you to want something you can’t have. Just like there is a part of you deep down somewhere that knows that if Donna had ever showed the slightest sign of returning your feelings, you would have lost interest. Laurie. Mallory. Ainsley. You seem to be attracted only to women who give the appearance of needing to be rescued. You’re more attracted to the complication than to the girl herself.  
  
Nothing in this administration has turned out the way that it was supposed to. . . but maybe, if you are honest, you can admit that this one thing. . . the Josh and Donna thing. . . turned out exactly the way it should.  
  
It wasn’t the make out session in front of the entire world that was the reality beam that finally hit you over the head. Physical attraction you can understand. No, it happened a few days later. You had entered Josh’s office late one night to talk about some minutiae of the Keiz/Drummer Report to find Donna sitting on his lap. They were discussing what effect the proposed trade agreement with India might have on child labor. There was nothing sexual or come-hither about their pose, not like it would have had it been the President and Mrs. Santos way back when they were still speaking to each other. But it did remind you of another Presidential couple. While you had never actually seen Dr. Bartlet sit on her husband’s lap, the former First Couple regularly used to hold hands during quiet moments. And still do, for all you know. You now realize that thinking you could ever have offered Donna something more than that was surely the worst form of narcissism.   
  
Your father’s stupidity hurt his wife and family. Your President’s stupidity will hurt his family, his staff, his legacy, his party, and, most likely, the country. The only person you’ve hurt with your own stupidity is yourself. And you suppose that has to count for something.  
  



End file.
